


Beggars

by fannishliss



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Begging, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes is a hell of a guy, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Explicit Consent, First Time, Internalized Homophobia, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Protective Steve Rogers, but they get over it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve finds Bucky on his knees in his room, but he knows the most important thing for Bucky is being able to ask for what he wants.  Featuring a rather closeted submissive Steve, and a Bucky who is not really as submissive as he's been forced to be for so long.  Each of them begs a lot and they both get what they've always wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beggars

**title: Beggars**  
author: [](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/)**fannishliss**  
pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers  
rating: Mature! Explicit! nc17! this is pure pr0n!  
warning: light dom/sub, with explicit negotiations

summary: Steve finds Bucky on his knees in his room, but he knows the most important thing for Bucky is being able to ask for what he wants.  Featuring a rather closeted submissive Steve, and a Bucky who is not really as submissive as he's been forced to be for so long.  Each of them begs a lot and they both get what they've always wanted.

I would love to hear concrit on this, either here or at my LJ.

===

Super soldier or not, Steve was weary down to the bone.  Further.  Three fractured ribs on his left side were still knitting together, and it had hurt like hell when Bruce had had to reset his index and middle fingers when they had almost fully healed by the time he got to the infirmary.  His urine sample had been mostly blood, but Jarvis affirmed that his internal damage was already mostly history.  No punctures, no compound fractures, no brain injuries, no spinal injuries.  He was having trouble knocking the horrible impacts and sickening broken celery noises out of his head, was all.   No drugs would take, forget alcohol, he had a long night ahead of him, just him and the ceiling and a weariness a little too deep to slip easily into unconsciousness, his tactical brain going over and over the fight, showing him where he could have been a little faster, a little smarter.  Fuck.

The first thing he noticed when he stepped into his bedroom was the cluster of darkness in the dimmed room, a puddle of shadows taken sleek shape on the floor next to his bed. His own pain and troubles immediately slipped into the background: Bucky needed him.

"Hey, pal.  You okay?" Steve spoke softly into the carpeted silence.

Stark Tower was one of the quietest places Steve had ever known.  As much as Stark loved blasting his own eardrums out when he was working, he had no tolerance for sloppy whirs or mechanical background noises in his living environments.  Everything in the Tower was automated, or rather, executed with smooth efficiency by Jarvis, and it was all soundless.

Bucky slowly stirred.  The whirring of his arm broke the silence.  Had he been asleep? He was moving so slowly.

"Steve," he said, very quietly.

"Hey, Buck.  Is there something you need?" Steve asked.

"Yes," Bucky answered.  He still hadn't met Steve's eyes, hiding his face behind the fall of his hair.  He was dressed all in black, long black sleeves hiding the shine of his arm, long black pants almost hiding his bare feet. He'd raised himself up from his curl on the floor and he was kneeling now, right hand clasped around the left in the small of his back, a kind of parade rest.

"I'm glad you let me know, Bucky. Can I help?"  Steve encouraged.

Bucky's super healing abilities had helped repair his brain at an amazing rate, but unfortunately his memories had returned faster than he'd been able to process them.  He'd turned himself in to Steve at Stark Towers about ten days after the SHIELD implosion, begging for help.  He'd made a lot of progress with the best psychologists Stark money could hire (when it came to Bucky's well-being, Steve wasn't proud),  but he still had trouble voicing his own desires.

"I ... I hope so," Bucky said.

"Anything, Bucky, you know that," Steve said.

"Careful what you promise, Stevie," Bucky said, and he sounded so much like his old self, Steve felt it almost like a punch.

"Anything," Steve swore, firmly.

"Okay.  Okay," Bucky said, breathing a little hard.  Whatever it was, it was clearly something he had trouble asking.

"Jarvis, record," Bucky said, clearly.

"Recording, Sergeant Barnes," Jarvis answered.

"Jarvis, what's your assessment of my current mental state?" Bucky asked.

"Your heart rate is elevated, you are flushed and exhibiting signs of adrenaline," Jarvis answered, "indicating that you are nervous. However, your actions this evening have been deliberate, not impulsive or conflicted, probably the result of several days' planning.  My assessment is that mentally, you are stable and in control."

"Thanks, Jarvis.  Steve, I seem in my right mind to you?" Bucky asked.

"Sure," Steve said. "Except ... I'm not sure why you're on the floor?"

Through the silence, Steve could hear as Bucky smoothly breathed in through his nose, and out through his mouth, a long, slow, calming breath Steve recognized from his own therapy sessions.

"Because ... because this is where I want to be," Bucky said.

"Doesn't look very comfortable," Steve said. He was still hanging by the door, unsure what to do.  He'd had nothing more on his mind for when he got back to his suite than stripping off his clothes and falling into bed (he'd cleaned himself up before Bruce looked him over).

"I want you, Steve," Bucky said, in a rush.  "I'm sorry. You can say no.  I just, I want you so bad.  I'm sorry."

Steve felt like he'd been slapped, like the room was spinning. Everything seemed to brighten, then dim, and Bucky's dark, graceful shape seemed to glow as Steve's pupils dilated and fixed on his best friend.

"You don't need to be sorry," Steve said, not sure what Bucky wanted; hoping -- but he had to hear Bucky say it.

"You don't ...  I just ... " Bucky was fighting to make himself clear.  Steve damned Hydra to hell, a constant inner mantra that at times like this erupted into primal shouts of rage, but Steve kept it cool; Bucky didn't need that right now, and Steve was all about what Bucky needed.

Steve found his own voice. "Whatever you need, Bucky," he reassured, "it's always all right to ask."

"We ... weren't ... like this," Bucky said, head still hanging low.

"Like what?" Steve asked, still way too far on the other side of the room.

"We had each other.  But not ... not like I want."

A flush of heat crashed through Steve, followed by shame and fear.  What kind of friend would he be to take advantage of Bucky when he was still healing?   What if he was reading this all wrong? Though, finding Bucky kneeling beside his bed didn't seem very ambiguous. 

"Just tell me what you want, okay Buck?" Steve said. "I can't read your mind."

A harsh laugh tore out of Bucky's throat. "Thank god for that, Steve. You always liked your reading a lot more high class."

"Try me," Steve challenged, and Bucky finally lifted his chin to meet Steve's eyes.

"I want ... to be naked while you still got on clothes."  His voice fell to a whisper, but Steve could hear him loud and clear.   "I want to kneel at your feet.  I want your hand in my hair.  Your cock in my mouth."

Steve's feet slowly moved across the plush carpet of the room Stark had given him, until he was standing beside his friend. His hand reached down to thread through Bucky's hair.  Bucky had always had gorgeous thick chestnut hair, styled just right to drive the dames crazy.  This new Bucky wouldn't cut his hair, and it hung down to his shoulders in thick, glossy waves. Steve's fingers sank in and tangled, finding Bucky's scalp, soothing the skin there between the scars.

Bucky groaned and lay his forehead against Steve's thigh.

"I want to know it's okay, Steve," he begged.

"It's okay," Steve said. "If you ask for something I can't give, I'll tell you."

"God, Steve.  I know we never... but I want it so much," Bucky said. He pressed his head against Steve's touch, and Steve brought his other hand in and massaged Bucky's scalp.  Natasha had done this right in the common room, on the couch with Bucky on the floor between her knees.  It had made Steve so jealous and sick with shame, because he knew he couldn't touch Bucky like that and not want more.  Steve was grateful to Natasha for being who she was, straightforward and strong, she'd crafted a genuine self out of so many lies.  Steve was glad Bucky had a friend like her; she could give him what he needed without asking anything more than friendship in return. But Bucky was Steve's heart's core: Steve would be lying if he said he was selfless -- he needed Bucky's friendship like he needed air to breathe, but he wanted his hooks in every part of Bucky he could get.

"Did you want ... more...  back then?" Steve asked, trying to keep his voice light.

"God, yes," Bucky said.  "But ... we didn't."

"There was a lot I wanted,"  Steve said.

"I would have given you anything.  Everything," Bucky said.

"I was too proud," Steve said. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

"I'm not proud," Bucky said, face still hidden against Steve's thigh.

"You should be, though," Steve said.  "After all you've survived."

"After all I've done..." Bucky began.

Steve pulled Bucky back, angling his face up, to look in his eyes.  "You fought, and you made it, and I'm so fucking glad."

Bucky was still coming to terms with his past, so Steve couldn't push it.  "I was lost without you, Buck.  I was such a mess."

"I'm a mess," Bucky said.

"You're not," Steve said.

"I am," Bucky said. "But I'm getting better."  His full lips twitched from their perpetual pout into that little smile of mischief Steve remembered so well.  Everything Bucky did, he did well, and he mocked himself because of it. Even now, he made phenomenal progress when any other man would have still been rocking in a corner.

"Jerk," Steve said, remembering his line.

"Punk," Bucky murmured, then he turned his head and kissed Steve's cock through the thin material of his workout pants.

Steve wasn't hard yet, but only because he was too scared he'd fuck things up.  Bucky's mouth was too much: Steve's hips jumped forward, and he groaned.  He had to admit he wanted it; he'd dreamed of Bucky's mouth his whole life, even while he'd tried to forbid himself to think that way about his friend.

"Is it okay?" Bucky said. "Can I?" 

"God, Bucky," Steve said.  A lifetime of denial was hard to overcome. His cock was rock hard so fast, surging to life under Bucky's hot kisses.

"I want to take off my clothes?" Bucky murmured, his request still a question.

Steve jerked against Bucky's mouth.  "If that's what you want, I'm not stopping you," Steve said.

Bucky stripped off his shirt and pants and there he was, his pale skin gleaming in the moonlight, his silver arm aesthetically sublime, except for the terrible scars.

"I'm sorry," Bucky said.  He still apologized too much, but not as much as he had when he'd first found them at the Tower. Back then, sorry had been almost all he could say.

"It's okay, Bucky," Steve reassured.

"I'm sorry," Bucky said, but then he pressed his mouth against Steve's cock, sucking at him through the cloth.  "Please, I want it..."

Steve wasn't made of stone.  "Okay," he whispered.

"Thank you," Bucky breathed, letting out a sigh of relief.  He lifted his hands from behind his back and gently pulled Steve's waistbands down, freeing Steve's erection from his workout pants and boxer briefs.

Bucky buried his nose in Steve's thatch of dark blond curls, kissing his balls and breathing deep.

"Ah, god, you smell so good. I can remember.  When it was hot.  We got so sweaty. You were so pretty, Steve. I could smell you.  I wanted you so bad.  Had to get out of there, find a dame, eat her out thinking about you."

"Bucky," Steve moaned.  He remembered too, those sweaty Brooklyn summer nights when Bucky came home stinking of sex.  And he'd wanted Steve back that whole time: such a waste.

"Bucky, you want me, you got me," Steve swore.

"God Steve, I want you so much," Bucky groaned, then he caught Steve's cock in his right hand and slipped it between his wet lips.

Steve let out a grunt as Bucky sucked him in.  It felt so good it was hard to think. His thighs trembled and his head fell back as his whole world narrowed to his cock in Bucky's hot mouth.

"Bucky, I know you wanted me standing, but I'm going to fall over," he warned.

"I'm sorry!" Bucky pulled off and eased Steve down to sit on the bed.  "Please, just let me..."

Steve put his hands in Bucky's hair again and guided him back to his cock.  Bucky licked it and suckled and it felt so good. Bucky's lips were so soft, his tongue so clever, and he'd finally let his hands free to touch Steve, the left hand cool and pressing up in behind Steve's balls, the right hand gripping him tight around the base.

"I'm gonna come," Steve warned, " -- you don't have to--"  Then he was spilling down Bucky's throat, hot white fire pouring out of him, Bucky's clever hands and wicked mouth milking him for every drop until he was spent.

Steve couldn't help it, he was so tired and the orgasm was so good, that he let himself fall back onto the bed.   He wanted to be there for Bucky, but he needed thirty seconds of nothing, blank mind with his eyes closed.

"Bucky," he murmured, brain slowly coming back on line.

Bucky was still nuzzling around his cock.  Back before the serum, it would have been too much, but now, his cock took one orgasm in stride and starting getting ready for the next one.

"So good, Steve, so perfect," Bucky moaned, licking Steve's balls.

"Bucky, god," Steve moaned, as his cock slowly filled.

"You taste so good, you smell so good," Bucky said. "Just want you on my tongue."

All Steve's thoughts of ignoring Bucky's therapy protocols by ordering Bucky up onto the bed and into his arms for a long night's cuddle, flew out the window.

"Anything you want," Steve assured him.

"Your ass," Bucky whispered.  "I want ... I'm sorry!"

"Don't be sorry," Steve said.  "You want me to roll over?"

"You don't mind?" Bucky said, worry shaking his voice.

"Bucky, you just sucked my brains out my dick," Steve groaned.  "I'm not gonna mind a damn thing for a good long while."

"I want to stay on the floor," Bucky said. "If you put your feet on the bed..."

"Oh my god," Steve said, as he pictured himself, knees up, ass bared off the edge of the bed, open for whatever Bucky wanted.

"I'm sorry," Bucky said, but Steve hushed him.

"No, it's ... you just get me so hot.."

"Oh," Bucky said.  "I'm glad.  Maybe you should take your pants all the way off?"

They had been pleasantly constricting around his thighs before, but now they'd be in the way. Steve kicked them off and assumed the position.

"Steve, damn it, Steve," Bucky moaned.  "Can I?"

"Yes!" Steve shouted.  He could imagine the sight he presented to Bucky, buttocks flexing as Bucky's hands held his thighs apart.

"I want this," Bucky moaned, "I want you so much."

"I want it too," Steve admitted. "Please!"

It was like a dam broke inside Steve.  He'd held himself back his whole life, keeping his love for Bucky pure -- like a brother -- like a good friend should be -- not letting his love turn to lust like it had in his dreams, when his body betrayed him, lying down for Bucky like one of his dames, letting him do whatever he wanted.

Now, the tables had turned, and letting Bucky have what he wanted was a good friend's duty, and it set them both free.

Bucky licked his ass, and Steve couldn't have dreamed up how good it felt, feeling Bucky's finger gently petting him there, pressing the tight muscles until they let go, Bucky's tongue slick as it slipped inside him.

Then the metal hand joined in, the cool metal fingertip just pressing in along Bucky's hot tongue, and Steve lost it.

"God! Bucky!  Oh my god, please--!  Oh, fuck, it feels so good."

The arm was everything that had been done to Bucky, everything he'd been forced to do, everything he'd survived. But it was part of Bucky, and Steve loved him so much. The darkness was part of who Bucky was, intrinsic to his beauty, and when Steve felt that cold metal finger touch him so intimately, he knew he'd give anything to have Bucky beside him, inside him, part of him.

"I want, Steve, I wanna fuck you, can I, please, Stevie?"  Bucky was licking him desperately, probing deep with his tongue, stretching him open with two gentle fingers, and Steve was going out of his mind.

"Yes, Bucky, yes!" Steve begged.

Bucky stood up, took Steve's knees in his hands, folding him backwards, and his cock, dripping slick, touched Steve's hole.

"Bucky, Bucky," Steve chanted.

"I want, I want to put it in you," Bucky said.

"I want it too!" Steve said.

Steve was loose enough to let Bucky in, and Bucky pressed inside so slowly, a glide that burned and filled Steve in a way he'd never let himself imagine, until Bucky was all the way in -- so hard, so deep, remaking what that part of Steve was for. It ached, but not like something wrong -- more like something irrevocable, something that forever changed who Steve was, and who Bucky  would be for him.

"What do you feel?" Steve gasped.

"Heat," Bucky whispered.   "Tight, silken heat.  Nothing has ever felt this good, nothing."  Bucky withdrew, just a little, and Steve felt like he couldn't bear for Bucky to pull back even that much, but then he reseated himself, just a little deeper, and Steve groaned, the rightness filling him up, the ache fading back, the burn turning to heat, the urge for Bucky to move, just that much, again.

"I want to move," Bucky said,  and Steve said, "it feels so good," and Bucky's hips began a rhythmic pulse that took Steve apart, pulling out a little farther each time, fucking back in like silk, relentless, and Steve just lay back and took it, moaning, chanting Bucky's name, "yes, Bucky, god, yes."

Bucky's metal hand was braced on the bed, and his right hand wandered Steve's body, stroking the side of his neck, his chest, his ribs (the pain was all gone).  Steve had a hold of his own knees now, holding himself up and open as Bucky fucked him. They had found just the right angle to make Steve cry out, as Bucky's cock hit his prostate with every thrust.

"I want you to come Steve, come on my cock," Bucky said, and Steve looked up at Bucky's face -- the face he'd adored in silence his whole life, and orgasm crashed through him like a landslide.  Bucky seized up as Steve clenched around him, emptying himself inside Steve in silence, as Steve panted and groaned Bucky's name.

They caught their breaths for a moment, sweaty bodies sliding sticky, Steve's come spattered between them.  Then Bucky smoothly pulled out, gentle and slow, and started licking Steve clean.

"Can I?" he said, but he didn't really wait for Steve's answer.   He'd always been a fast learner, and it was clear Steve wouldn't deny him anything.

Steve groaned as Bucky's clever tongue and lips found his cock again, cleaning him just enough to get him going yet again,  and then Bucky rolled him over.

"So pretty, Stevie," Bucky said.  "I wanna lick you out again, can I?"

Steve saw how this night was going to go, and if they were lucky, what they'd do with every well-earned moment for the rest of their lives.

"Yes, Bucky, yes, please.  Yes."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit gratefully accepted either here or at my LJ: 
> 
> http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/204488.html
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos also make me happy!


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